There are moments in time and space when the world seems either so utterly perfect or so perfectly tragic that the entire universe becomes such a minutia of emotion. The entirety of known existence can be collapsed down into a singularity so small and yet so grandiose at the same time that there remains nothing else. There is but the pure essence of an event, of time and space, compressed down to but a grain of sand in the grand scheme of everything.
However, breath, and that bit of sand is gone, lost to the winds of change.
She gasped, feeling the sweet coolness of the air suddenly so sharp and panging in her lungs, stinging at her in the most strangely refreshing way. Her eyes went wide, opening to the night, to the nothingness around her and yet the true expanse of the cosmos. Those cerulean blue spheres gazed out, seeing everything and nothing, seeing beyond the realm of normal human vision.
This was her grain of sand.
A millisecond expanded and stretched out into infinity There, in that moment, she could almost hear the breathes of the mice, birds, and squirrels, all bedding down around them. Her ears pricked to the sounds of each individual blade of grass as they rasped across one another in a silent breeze. Heartbeats echoed, low and deep, bellowing into the night and into the shadows. Pale blue light poured down and danced across the tree tops. Even dead things felt suddenly alive and charged with energy, eager with anticipation. And, yet, the feeling felt gone long before it had even started, as those echoes and reverberations faded away to time.
Only a second or two really passed.
And in that moment, so much happened, everything changed in that sheer heartbeat. There stemmed a flurry of motion, exploding outward from that alcove in the woods. A streak of black whirled around them, into them, spurned by a flash of gleaming metal.
Nycole held her breath.
Brett had made the first move, sparked by his own anxiousness, his own longing to end this. The fire elemental had wanted nothing more than to safely contain Kathain, Leanna, whatever this creature was, to end her hunt. He just acted too quickly, drawing forth one of the throwing knives that had been providing to him by Kristo. In that instant, the blade was in motion, through the air, spinning directly towards the interloper's right shoulder.
The black of shadows, of evil and vile bastardization swirled around her, moving as a dervish, striking out and clawing at the air. Leanna's long, pale, delicate fingers, almost moon white against the darkest of shadows. And, somehow, they found home, curling around the blade end of the knife, squeezing. The huntress allowed the sharply honed edge to slice at her flesh for but a moment before giving the blade an elegant, quick flip to the handle end. With a simple, reeling motion, with all the tremendous power of the great tidal waves, Leanna rushed around Nycole, grabbing her fiercely and bringing the bloodied knife to the empath's bare and exposed throat.
"STOP!" Nycole cried out.
Leanna didn't seem to want to hear it. Her left hand steadily applied even pressure across huntress remained focused, intently glaring over her former friend's shoulder. The singularity event had ended; the bit of sand had been blown away by the breeze that had carried the assassin to her bait.
Now, Brett wouldn't play games. His flames burst into existence. Robin gasped now, drawing in the singing, stinging air, acrid with the usually welcoming scent of brimstone. The teenager normally enjoyed that scent and the sweet release of energy from within, but, this time, the girl just didn't like it. Robin's heart sank as the Arcanum recognized Brett's Craft, darkly fueled by his own fear and rage. He plumed with black energy, like the witches Robin used to hunt at Amon's side.
Brett had become one of the witches.
Robin blinked, unsure of what to do. Natural instinct told her to react, to lash out and subdue Brett. It took every bit of her control to keep from striking out with her own Craft at the fire elemental, to put him in his place. It was just a force of habit, instinct bred out of repetition. Robin balled her fist tight, though, and prepared for whatever Kathain could through back at them.
She felt the power of Geoff's own Craft rising, a swelling tidal wave of energy, building and amassing within him. Raven glowed with the slightest of markings, his own runic blessings. Bear stood ready, his hand out and prepared to fight. The dark of night curled around Kristo, welcoming him. Even Sakaki seemed prepared. They were ready, itching to end this as quickly as possible.
And Nycole? To Robin, the empath just seemed ready for it. Her neck remained arched back, away from the blade, as any human would, but the telepath looked entirely prepared for the duel hot and cold slash of the blade, the crunch and splatter of bodily mutilation at the hands of a former friend.
No. Still a friend, for Nycole would never give up on Kathain.
"Leanna…." The empath croaked.
Amon's heart contracted, watching this demoness of the night and the dark holding Nycole hostage. This was not the Kathain he had set out to save, to rescue from the hands of Zaizen. They had gotten to her too late. This was an entirely different breed of killer.
"Don't move," the assassin growled. "And don't even think about using your petty magicks to save her. You have seen my might, and you know I will just see it coming."
Amon nodded slowly, dropping his gun low, but Brett refused. "No."
"We don't have any other choice," Sakaki argued.
Leanna could have found the entire situation comical. These were the Thirteen, supposedly the saviors or the doomsayers of the universe. These were the Warriors. And, yet, they were nothing but squabbling children. It was completely the antithesis of what Leanna would have expected the fabled Warriors to be like.
Now, Jonas spoke, having the full authority of his position behind him. "Brett, hold." The Masquerade's bartender stood tall, hunching his head slightly, almost predatory, feeling the wealth and multitude of his own Craft crawling behind his eyes. "You moved to attack first." He took a step towards Leanna, peacefully, holding his empty hands out. "It was self defense." The blade pressed against Nycole's throat, leaving a line of scarlet. "Let's hear what the lady has to say before we cut her to pieces."
Leanna lowered her head, dipping it mildly in regard to the words of Jonas. He had reached her. A smile spread across the blonde's face, thick with satisfaction and delight at this chance of his. The man gave a lilting side step, almost jigging towards Leanna.
"My lady, if you would care to explain…" Jonas invited, giving a deep, mocking bow.
Leanna closed her eyes slowly, leaning close to Nycole's ear and whispering into it in a deep, almost husky voice, as if hoping for no one else to catch it. "You said Oracle to the Thirteen."
"Yes," Nycole replied, not bothering to lower her voice.
Leanna nodded. "Alright. Explain."
"You're precognitive. You should know that," Nycole hissed venomously.
The assassin squeezed down harder on the empath's throat. "I knew you would know that I see time and everything. But how do you know?" Leanna gripped the throwing knife tighter. "Why did they keep calling me Kathain?"
This had to end, and it would end there, with Nycole. The telepath had given enough chance to this, but they took too great of a risk. Kathain knew too much, even if she were Leanna, even if she could not remember, for the Thirteen to let her run about freely. It was far too great of liability for them to chance it. And, if anyone were going to take Kathain down, it would be Nycole; only she had the rights to bring down another Oracle.
"You tell me," the empath growled.
In an instant, Nycole popped her wings. She always loved to refer to that sweet, sudden release as those white things sprouted from between her shoulders. There would be that sickening tightening of all her muscles of the upper back, just before a sharp snap. It was rather like popping a joint, and, so, the term stuck. But there was no better way to describe the abruptness to the action, even knocking Leanna back and away from her.
Nycole's glory unfolded around her.
Sakaki grabbed at Robin and hauled her back, into the undergrowth; his only explanation came tersely as Nycole turned to face her quarry. "You don't want to be out there for this."
Sure enough, the Thirteen stepped back, giving the Oracles their due space and respect. Oracles were dangerous things, devilish and with all the power of time, space, emotion, and the universe on their side. At the snap of their fingers, they could see anything, know anything, and be able to change anything they wanted. And they were witches, to boot. Creatures of power and supreme knowledge to back it up. This would not be an easy fight in any manner of the word.
Robin gasped in awe. She had seen the sleek, ebony wings of Amon's, but she had never spied the resplendent things of an Oracle. They were white, glowing faintly with the shimmer of moonbeams and starlight. Nycole's were smaller than Amon's, practically tiny by comparison. However, hers were built like sparrow or dove wings, stretching softly and almost fluffy, where Amon's were sharper, more like raven's or hawk's.
The assassin took a step towards the telepath, but Nycole just slammed her wings down. For however tiny they seemed, those wings put forth a surprising amount of power, sending forth a rolling wave of energy and air. Leanna was thrown backwards. She flew through the air, carried by the sheer force of Nycole's single beat.
Leanna merely rolled back on the ground, tucking neatly and coming back up easily. "Good. A fight."
In a heartbeat, a flash of blinding, warm, yellow light erupted.
Amon stood, shielding his eyes, watching in horror. Leanna arched back in an elegant curve, her wings stabbing out from her flesh, as one, seemingly bound thing. They snapped apart, splitting suddenly and forming two, distinctively different appendages. It took but a breath of Leanna's to start a soft, simple beat of her wings, slow and languid. And, then, Leanna's feet settled upon the ground.
She stood ready, as soon avenging angel, her white wings spread for battle. They were long and built like a hawk's, fierce and feral. They matched this assassin and her personality. They were the wings for her.
Leanna hunkered down for a moment, spreading her wings high behind her. "You wanted a fight."
Nycole nodded. "Bring it on, bitch."
xxxx
Oracles doing battle. People fighting. What happened to everybody hugging and being happy? What happened to Full House endings? Oh… wait… I happened.